


Given Form

by jaimistoryteller



Series: 2017 - 31 Days of Bond Flash Fics [19]
Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Future, Authors Notes on the MCD, Fluff, Magic, Mild Angst, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 20:57:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller
Summary: After realizing he isn't just bored, he's lonely, Q does something drastic that leads to the best thing in his life.





	Given Form

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** creation
> 
> So, this is another one that might get expanded upon later. 
> 
> Q's spells are translated at the end
> 
> Yes it's tagged with Major Character Death because they are dead at the beginning of the story but alive by the end.

Q’s POV

He’s bored, he realizes as he glances around his lab. Nothing here is all that interesting for him to work on. He’s done so many things that others have called amazing but really they’re not all that interesting to him. They were merely projects to work on to keep his mind occupied, what he would like is a companion to speak with.

How to go about doing that?

His head tips to the side as he considers what he could do. He doesn’t want a golem or half-golem, nor does he want a new sprite. Hmmmm.

Actually, he knows what he can do.

Grinning a bit manically, he makes his way through his keep and to the lower levels. Not the sub-levels where the cellars, storage, and dungeon are, but deeper, into the undercroft where the remains of the past are kept. He will see if any of them wish to be alive again, with the clear understanding that it won’t be the life they know.

He’s well aware his keep is built on the undercroft of an ancient building. One from before the War of Ice, before the world had been forever changed. Prior to the war, there was no magic, there was only science and the science of the time did not quite keep up with the magic he has.

Of course he knows a great deal about the science of the era. He pays in goods and specialty items to scavengers to find those ancient books and all forms of technology they can bring him, no matter how badly broken.

Murmuring under his breath, “ _Foirm éadrom timpeall orm_ ,” light surrounds him, casting shadows as he moves through the dark ruins. Right then, if he is not mistaken, there is a crypt not too far from here.

Sure enough, he finds one, although he gets the impression from the way the bodies are hewn about, this wasn’t supposed to be a crypt. If he is being perfectly honest, this seems like they were working when things went horribly wrong.

Stopping in roughly the middle of the crypt, he speaks again, voice firm and sure. “ _Taispeánann do naamáin duit féin_.”

He breathes evenly as he waits for the magic to spread and reactions to begin.

Slowly several of the skeletons begin to emanate light.

Right then, time for the next spell, “ _I bhfianaise, labhairt_.”

Most of the forms do not change but two slowly start to pulsate and eventually separate from their bones to create spectral bodies.

“Q?” the first questions, shock and wonder filling his voice.

He’s not sure how he knows it’s a ‘he’ but he does.

“How are you not dead?” the second demands harshly, but he knows there is joy in that knowledge.

His eyes narrow as he studies them, “How do you know my name?”

“Don’t you remember us?” That’s from the first, “What happened here?”

“The world was declared destroyed two hundred cycles around the sun ago,” he replies to the second question, turning over the first in his mind. There have been documented cases of reincarnation, sometimes the person remembers the past, other times they don’t. Could that be why they know who he is even though he doesn’t know who they are?

It’s interesting, the way the two of them glance at each other before returning their gaze to him.

“We’re dead, you are not, how is this conversation possible?” The second asks as he slowly looks around as if seeing everything for the first time, which might actually be accurate.

“I am a mage,” he replies, lifting his chin and watching them, “My focus is in creation magics but I can use other forms as well.”

“Why us?” the first queries curiously.

“Your souls responded, the others did not.” He answers, shrugging.

Again the pair glance at each other, having a silent conversation.

“What do you need?” they ask together.

“I wish to create a companion, but rather than give it an elemental soul, I thought to ask a soul down here if they would like to be reborn. It will not be the life you knew, for the world is vastly different since the War of Ice destroyed most of it.” He answers, probably giving more detail than he needs to.

As they have another silent conversation, he suddenly finds himself hoping that both of them would like to be reborn. He doesn’t fit with the villagers, traders, and occasional others that come to him for magic or with technology since he is known for high exchanges for said technology. His entire fortress compound was originally a military compound thrown together after the war that was soon abandoned because of the weather. He personally finds it quite nice, though occasionally lonely. He has sprites that speak with him, but the conversation is sorely lacking at times. More than that, he finds himself longing for something he can’t remember.

“We agree,” they declare at the same time, making him smile.

“Do you have names?” he queries, wanting to call them something than first and second.

The first tips his head, the hints of a smile playing at the edge of his lips, “James Bond.”

The second answers a breath later, “Alec Trevelyan.”

“A joy to meet you,” he tells them in the time honored manner.

“ _Cruinnigh liom_.” He states firmly, summoning the bones of his two willing participants with the spell.

“That sounded something like Irish,” Alec remarks, brow furrowing. “Not quite how I remember it sounding though.”

Shrugging, he keeps his hand flat as the bones collect evenly below it, “I learned from books and old recordings, I knew it was off but was unsure how to correct it. The first time I spoke it aloud, was then first time I used external magic. My parents were,” he pauses, trying to determine the right worried, “concerned for my abilities. Mages who can speak magic are rare, creation mages who can craft things are much more common. I do both.”

Both ghosts nod, watching as the thin remains of their bodies gather in a neat pile.

“How are our bones preserved?” James asks as he stares at all that remains of him.

“I am uncertain, the vast majority of bones from that era, if not exposed to the outside world, are intact. I actually have a crypt that I have been setting them to rest, with name tags and dates,” he answers before turning and rotating his hand to face upwards. “ _Fan ar leataobh. Tar liom._ ”

The pair follows him, drifting along as he makes his way out of the crypt and through the ruins before making his way upwards into his keep.

He’s surprised that they stay in the days following his trip to the deep under ruins and crypt. He originally expected their ghosts to fade until he is done, at which point he expects their souls to inhabit their new forms. But that’s not what happens.

They cannot physically interact with the world but they keep him company, talking with him and sharing stories. He learns that the War of Ice was called World War III when they were alive. He learns that Icefall, the event that triggered the destruction of nearly the entire human race and the planet as it was to them, was caused by bombs exploding throughout the atmosphere.

They often remind him to sleep and eat, to take breaks when he goes for long periods of time working on his project. They take care of him, to the best of their ability.

While he sleeps they explore his keep, the vast caverns and buildings, the ruins deep below. Sometimes when he wakes they lead him to hidden places where he finds lost technologies, some of which are very useful to the many projects he has around his compound.

They find his sprites and elementals intriguing, referring to them as his minions. A name for them he understands.

Alec is the first to comment on how rare there are other people here. How traders bring him things he requests using messenger spirits that can only relay his words to others and not bring him a spoken reply, though he has several that will bring him scraps of paper with the replies written on them. How he doesn’t seem to have anyone in the way of friends and family.

Both of his ghosts notice how those that do come to his compound are unsettled by it, often staying for the shortest amount of time possible.

James is the one who first calls him a magpie, referring to his habit of collecting items he finds interesting though not keeping them in his ‘nest’ as they have come to call his primary rooms.

He uses the vast library he has been building and scrying to research how to build them and what it may take to do so. He has countless sheets of notes and equations, words and numbers and symbols in an every growing collection needed to accomplish what he has set out to do.

They watch in fascination as he recreates their bodies using their bones and many of the very things he has sent out requests for using the sprites. However he cannot bring them to life at the same time. He doesn’t have the magic to do so without potentially killing himself.

It is when he nearly has everything assembled that he needs for just one that he finds himself in the position of having to tell them without knowing how. What if they decide they do not wish for  him to complete the rituals because of the risk?

“What’s bothering you?” James asks one night as he pecks at his dinner, not really having the appetite to eat.

“It’s almost time to begin the spell casting,” he answers after forcing himself to take another bite of food. “I will only be able to do one at a time.” He hates the tremble in his voice as he say, “There are risks.”

Both of his ghosts shrug, but it’s Alec who puts it into words, “We were spies and assassins in life, military men, risks are natural to us.”

“I could completely destroy your soul,” he protests, putting into words his biggest fear. While it is true he can’t touch them, their very presence has improved his life.

“I have faith in you,” Alec replies, “in what you can do, in how strong your will is.”

James nods in agreement adding, “You’re so much like our Q. He was an inventor and scientist. There wasn’t a project he didn’t eventually succeed at.”

He nods slowly as he processes those words. For some reason his ghosts have faith in his abilities.

“I don’t know how to determine who to try with first. Once I start I will only be able to take short breaks to rest and eat,” he tells them, hoping they will have some input.

“Well you were older the first time, so I should be older this time,” Alec remarks, grinning at James.

Laughing, the second ghost agrees, “That’ll work. I’ll make sure that the sprites help as much as they can.”

Over the next few days as he prepares to begin the active casting on the full moon, he makes as much food and preserves as possible, quick things that he grab and eat between casting and naps.

The morning of the full moon, he double checks everything so he will have it easily on hand for the casting.

“This is going to work,” he states firmly, staring at the two coffin-like containers that hold his companions remains and part of the materials needed to bring them back.

They stay with him through it all, directing his sprites on how to best help him, and keeping them inline as he casts.

It takes three nights and four days to complete the casting. Mixing and adding the ingredients needed to form the body. When the last word is spoken, Alec’s soul fades from his view. Blinding panic rushes through him as his head whips around looking for his friend.

“Look Q,” James directs him, motioning to the container in which Alec’s remains had lain.

The alchemic stew is slowly changing, clinging to the bones and hiding them as a fleshed out body slowly forms, layer by layer. He watches in morbid fascination as the organs and muscles and sinew take their place until finally the skin grows over it all.

He tastes blood from biting his lip so hard as he waits to see if the binding was successful, if Alec is once more a living being.

Slowly closed eyes open, immediately he recognizes his friend in those turquoise eyes.

Twice Alec runs his tongue over his lips before he slowly speaks, “Hello Q.” his voice is smooth, almost melodious, sending a thrill of warmth through him.

It worked! He was able to bring his friend back to life, to create a new body for the soul to inhabit.

“It’s a bit cold,” his friend remarks, a stark reminder to grab the robe that he had placed nearby for just this occurrence. He hadn’t made clothing for his friend, because he hadn’t known how the flesh would form, and thus what would be appropriate sizes.

“Here,” he says, not sure if he should offer to help him up or not.

Slowly his friend shifts to a seated position, shivering as he does so.

“I didn’t expect to be this cold,” Alec mutters, accepting the robe and sighing in relief as the warming spell within heats his new form.

“We should wait until the next full moon before you begin mine Q,” James suggests before he has a chance to say anything about the next one.

There is a part of him that wishes to argue, to say he can do it now, but it makes more sense that he takes the month to mentally and physically prepare to cast the second round of spells and alchemy. Instead of speaking he nods.

“We should go to the main living quarters, there I have actual food, and can make you some clothing that fits appropriately,” he proposes, skin feeling oddly warm at the thought of touching his friend and actually being able to feel him.

Despite the fact one is still a ghost and the other now living they share one of those speaking looks that contains an entire conversation without a word.

“Show me home, Q,” Alec murmurs, slowly rising from the container and climbing out on briefly unsteady legs.

The walk is slower than he normally goes as his companion adjusts to his new body, but by the time they reach his living quarters, he’s moving along like a predator on the prowl. He’s quite comfortable with himself.

It’s amusing to watch his green eyed companion explore their home, touching and moving things as he hasn’t been able to before.

He feels a bit like an idiot when time to sleep comes, for he hadn’t planned that far ahead. Apparently his ghosts did however, because he finds himself drawn into warm arms and alongside a warm body.

It’s the first time in years he can remember anyone touching him, and he realizes exactly how much he missed it.

Those first days are fun, sometimes challenging, and always a learning curve as they settle in together.

He’s relieved that it goes so well, and that James doesn’t seem to be envious of Alec’s new status as living once more.

By the time the next full moon comes around, he’s ready and not nearly as nervous as the last time. Rather than pre-make things that could be easily eaten, his green eyed friend does the cooking, making sure to keep him well stocked in whatever he needs.

Something seems to go wrong with James’ body, because he writhers in pain, moving in a way that Alec never did during the casting, making him wonder what it could be. It’s when he spots the metal in the ankle that he realizes what the problem is, and quickly takes it out, hoping he hasn’t fucked up beyond repair.

It take two days longer to finish James’ body and he collapses upon speaking the last word, so he doesn’t get to greet him.

When he awakes, it’s curled between his companions forms, toasty warm and feeling secure in a way he can’t remember feeling before.

“Are you alright?” James asks, staring at him with the most amazing cobalt blue eyes.

He nods, not sure he can talk, his throat feels completely raw.

A moment later Alec moves and a glass is being pressed into his hands.

He drinks it without question, feeling immediately better.

“It worked,” he mumbles, then a bit louder, full of joy, “It worked!”

“Yes it did,” James agrees, large hands gently cupping his face, and surprisingly soft lips brushing against his.

It takes him a moment to realize what’s going on, he’s being kissed.

Before he has a chance to respond, Alec takes James’ place, kissing him just as softly before letting go.

With each other the kissing is much more passionate, sending a thrill of warmth through his entire body.

It worked. They’re really here, and they apparently wanted to kiss him and each other. This is better than he ever hoped for.

Despite the fact he only just woke up, he finds himself falling back to sleep a few minutes later.

He dreams for the first time in years. He’s somewhere he has never been, or maybe he has, it feels familiar, almost like home. With him are his companions, laughing and flirting, teasing and loving. They’re his home, he has pets, small furry creatures he thinks are cats, and a bird. There are so many flashes of a life he is sure is his own.

When he awakes hours later, he only has the faints memories of his dreams.

At first he’s surprised he is alone in bed, but he isn’t for long, as James comes in to check on him, joining him in the bed and snuggling close.

“There’s food cooking,” his blue eyed friend informs him, nuzzling along the length of his neck.

There is another flash of panic as he wonders if he has made them desire him when they normally wouldn’t.

“Relax, James has always had sex on his mind, and you are so like our Q, it’s not hard to understand why we both want you,” Alec states as he comes walking in the door, apparently catching his panic though he’s not sure how.

There is so much about what he did that’s undocumented he has no idea what sort of side effects there will be.

Settling beside him on the bed, Alec cups his face, gently kissing him. “If you’ll let us, we want to stay with you forever, not just as companions but as so much more.”

He feels dizzy as those words call forth a memory he’s sure is not his, “Let us keep you Q, we’ll always love you.”

“Yes,” he answers hoarsely, “I want that.”

His future doesn’t seem so lonely now. In fact, he is sure it will be better than he ever imagined. 

**Author's Note:**

> Publishing schedule, I will try & update one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Plus the two advent sets for the month of December.
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/money) and twitter to post about drawing & writing @jaimist0
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi, I particularly love comments on one shots and older stuff.
> 
> Q's spells are in Irish using google translate, so they could be inaccurate:  
> Foirm éadrom timpeall orm - Light form around me  
> Taispeánann do naamáin duit féin. - Thine souls reveal yourself.  
> I bhfianaise, labhairt. - In light, speak.  
> Cruinnigh liom. - Gather to me.  
> Fan ar leataobh. Tar liom. - Stay afloat. Follow me.


End file.
